


City Reports

by GreyLiliy



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Alcohol, Gen, Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2014-08-04
Packaged: 2018-02-11 18:21:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2078397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyLiliy/pseuds/GreyLiliy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things were supposed to be back to normal, but Cybertron’s leader has yet again left Windblade waiting on a no-show for the weekly city report. (Spoilers for all of the Windblade comics.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	City Reports

**Author's Note:**

> Couldn’t decide if I wanted to write fluff, canon, or flat out non-con for WindScream, and Rothinsel suggested somewhere between the first two with drunk fliers. So Windblade and Starscream drinking it is! Well, it’s not quite that prompt, because it got really melancholy on me really quickly—but it’s vaguely inspired by it! :D

Windblade tapped down the hallway toward Starscream’s office, her footsteps echoing in the corridor like empty shots. She watched the floor as she walked, her hand tracing along Metroplex’s sturdy walls, the tip of her wing scraping the metal in little jumps. The door loomed in front of her, and Windblade exhaled heavily.

Starscream was late.

Things had calmed down now that their hush-job was in place, and things were supposed to be back to normal. Windblade stopped in front of the door, her wings drooping behind her like a wilted leaf. That meant weekly reports on Metroplex’s progress should have started up again. Windblade knocked on the door.

It was the second week he’d skipped, and this needed to be done.

"Starscream?" Windblade asked, knocking a second time. She raised her voice just a bit, stepping up on her tip-toes. "Are you in there?"

"Go away!" Starscream shrieked through the door. Windblade frowned at the clinks and racket that accompanied it. He finished with an, "I’m busy!"

Windblade steeled herself and knocked again. “The work day isn’t over, and you missed the city report. Again.”

Silence.

Windblade pressed her lips together, and raised her wings higher. She gave a mental apology to Metroplex, and banged her fist on the door. “The least you could do is open the door and tell me why you left me waiting for four hours again!”

The screech of metal from a chair scraping against the floor was loud even through the door. She heard the vicious stomp of his feet against the floor, and Windblade stepped back a foot when the door burst open to reveal it’s fiery occupant.

Starsream leaned forward, gripping the doorway hard enough that it threatened to bend. He hissed, “What do you want?”

Windblade straightened up and stood tall, so that she only needed to look up an inch to meet his gaze. “Weekly reports on the city’s status. The least you could do is give notice if you’re going to cancel them.”

"I could have sworn that was a given," Starscream said, nearly rolling his eyes. "Considering the fiasco you and your little bodyguard caused."

"I would think that checking up on the city would still be important," Windblade said. Starscream looked unimpressed, and Windblade swallowed her pride for a moment. "It is your city isn’t it? Don’t you want to know?"

"Look," Starscream said, rubbing between his eyes. "I really don’t care. I checked in on you once a week before the bomb, because I wanted to make sure you weren’t trying to turn the city against me and back stab me.

"But as it turns out, you are literally every bit the little goody-two-shoes peacemaking idiot that you claimed to be, so I really don’t care what you do. If something breaks, fix it. Otherwise, you leave me alone, and I’ll leave you alone," Starscream said. He looked up and rubbed his fingers together. "In fact, the only report I want to hear out of you is ‘Lord Starscream, the space bridge is operational and ready for your use.’ So until then, enjoy doing whatever it is you do."

"Don’t care?" Windblade grabbed the door to keep it from shutting when Starscream turned and headed back into the room. She shoved her way in, and it slid shut behind her. She gaped, as Starscream walked over to the large glass window looking over the streets, and proceed to sip a cup of high grade. During work hours. "You’re the ruler of this planet! How can you not care about the well being of your city?"

"One," Starscream said, putting his glass down on the sill and held up a finger. "The part of the city that I care about are the people. Are they revolting? Am I going to get stabbed in the back? Have they resorted to cannibalism yet? No? Great.

"Two," he said, continuing, "Metroplex is a big bot who could take care of himself long before you showed up. He’ll be fine."

"He sure didn’t look it when I found him," Windblade hissed.

"Well, we make due with what we’ve got," Starscream shrugged.

"You’re horrible," Windblade huffed, her wings dropping in disappointment. "Metroplex is literally risking his life to try and save Cybertron, and you don’t even want to check once a week how he’s doing?"

"Up until recently," Starcream said, sipping his drink again. "Metroplex was target number one on the ‘Kill It’ list, as the biggest threat to my faction. So no, I don’t particularly care on a personal level how the giant oaf is doing, and I’m fairly certain if he breaks, I’ll know about it because the power will go out or you’ll come whining."

"So that’s it? You’re not going to do anything until the space bridge is operational?" Windblade asked. She crossed her arms and her wings flicked behind her. "No check ups, no demands of prioritizing one repair project over another? Nothing?"

"Not a thing," Starscream said, sneering. He stared out the window, drinking a deeper gulp from his glass. "I’ll leave it in your capable hands."

Windblade drew her hand into a fist, squeezed, and let it go. She dropped her wings and stared down at the city. “I think I’m going to need one of those.”

Starscream turned to the desk, picked up the pitcher of high grade and poured a second slim glass. He handed it to her and almost smirked. “I’m sure you’ll get used to the continued disappointment and shattering of your dreams sooner or later.”

"Not something I particularly would like to get used to, thanks," Windblade said. She took the glass and smelled it before taking a sip. She watched the citizens drive and walk by below. All of them, so calm and just trying to live their lives. Unaware they almost all died two to three weeks ago. Windblade sipped again. "This is good."

"Better be," Starscream said, swirling his glass. "Paid enough for it."

"Metroplex is doing well. The power issues are stabilized and he’s started internal repairs in greater volume," Windblade said, taking another sip. "For the record."

"Didn’t ask," Starscream said.

"Don’t care," Windblade said, shaking the liquid in the bottom of her glass. She stepped closer and glanced at him from the side of her eye. "You live inside of him, so you ought to know how he’s doing. Whether you care or not."

"Somebody’s getting bolder," Starscream muttered into his glass. "Lucky me."

"Nearly dying tends to do that," Windblade said. She finished off her glass, and looked behind her. Windblade helped herself to a second glass, pouring it slowly. "What can I say?"

"Ah yes, the new perspective that come from life threatening injuries," Starcream huffed. He scratched at his chest for a moment before shaking his head. "Who could forget that?"

"Starscream," Windblade said, gently setting the glass on the table. She turned it in her hand, spinning the base in a small circle. The lights behind her cast a glow on the wall, and she breathed out slowly. "Do you care about this city? Cybertron? You’re responsible for everyone who lives here.

"So," Windblade swallowed, she turned and faced him. "Do you care about this city and it’s people?"

Starcream held Windblade’s gaze, before averting his optics. He turned toward the window, and Windblade could only see his face in the glass’ reflection. Starscream raised his glass, and held the edge near his lips. “Only if I can keep it.”

Windblade held her glass between her hands, and listened to the hum of her spark beating harder.

"If I can’t do that," Starscream said, "then it can all turn to cinders for all I care."

He threw his head back and downed the rest of his drink in a single gulp. Starscream turned, his wing brushing against Windblade’s as he set his glass on the table. She could feel his body heat as he stood far too close, and she squeezed her glass, trembling. Frustration, anger, or fear—she couldn’t tell which.

Starscream leaned near her helm, and whispered, “And that includes you and this precious little Titan of yours, too.”

Windblade put her glass on the table, hard enough to slosh a bit out onto the surface. She pushed on his chest, and walked away from the table. “Fine. I think I have a better understanding, now.”

"Glad to help," Starscream said, picking up Windblade’s glass. He drank from it, and she glared. "Now that’s all cleared up, leave. Come back when the space bridge is fixed."

"I’ll see you the same time next week," Windblade said.

Starscream stopped mid sip and stared. He tilted his head in suspicion, and frowned heavily. “The space bridge won’t be operational that quick, will it?”

"Of course not," Windblade said. She clicked open his door and stood on the threshold. "You said you didn’t care what I did, so if I chose to give you a weekly report on how Metroplex is doing, that’s my own decision."

"You," Starscream hissed.

"And make sure you have more of that," Windblade said, pointing at the pitcher of high grade. "It really is worth every penny."

She closed the door when the stream of cursing began and strode away from the door as she tried to calm her systems.

Windblade wasn’t the type to give up.

She would never give up on Chromia, nor Metroplex. Windblade wasn’t going to give up on Caminus or Cybertron.

If that meant she couldn’t give up on Starscream being a proper leader to his people, either, then so be it.

Windblade’s feet echoed down the hallway, and she dragged her hand against Metroplex’s walls. Everything would be alright.

It had to be.


End file.
